Vomit!
by Twilight Scribe
Summary: Sweet little Shoe, the apple of Matt's eye, has left something particularly foul on the carpet for de Killer.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Oh no, I actually wrote it. This can't end well...

AN: This is set, of course, during case four of Justice For All. I have to say... I feel sorry for de Killer here. It's not a job I like to do either. And seriously, if you don't think you can handle great volumes of kitty vomit, turn back now.

* * *

The noise was unmistakable. Unique and instantly recognizable, even to those who had little experience with animals. Very much like a gunshot, de Killer mused grimly as he watched Shoe continue to retch onto the foyer's pristine white carpet. This, among other reasons of course, though this was particularly high on the list, was why he disliked pets. They destroyed your things and filled your home with disgusting smells.

With her upset stomach finally empty, Shoe gave one last mighty heave then sat back on her haunches, looking up at the assassin with an aura of sheer pride. It was akin to a preschooler showing off the lopsided popsicle stick and pasta sculpture they created in class. Look what I did mommy!

De Killer was not amused. Intrigued, astounded, and slightly nauseated, yes; but not amused. The emotions he felt were quite appropriate, however.

Intrigued because of the shape Shoe had managed to maneuver the pile into while laying the foul material down. From his elevated view of her "masterpiece" he could see the yellowish-brown pool of vomit had been wrought with feline precision into the rough shape of a fantail goldfish, complete with undigested pieces of said goldfish from the aquarium and bits of chewed metallic cellophane wrappers for that extra pizzazz.

Astounded because of the sheer volume of material. How could such a small cat produce so much?! There had to be more there than the infernal cat's own body mass!

And slightly nauseated for obvious reasons, plus the dilemma of exactly who was going to deal with the mess when he and Shoe were the only souls in the house.

For a long moment de Killer refused, turning his back on the mess and deciding to let Engarde clean up after his precious kitty once he returned from the Detention Center. His reasons were simple. One, it was disgusting; and two, he offered aftercare as part of his service, not animalcare. As an assassin he could not be expected to pick up piles of cat puke, nor would he. Besides, if Engarde had the money to hire him, he would certainly have the resources to have his carpets professionally cleaned or even replaced.

It wasn't until the assassin was halfway down the hall to the kitchen that the thought occurred to him: For this aftercare package, he was supposed to be the butler. The butler who takes care to arrange the household's affairs and keep the mansion itself spotless. No... The vomit was directly in the center of the foyer. Should visitors like Mr. Wright or anyone from the Criminal Affairs Department come calling there would be no way they could miss such an obvious blight on the carpet. It might throw suspicion onto the "butler" and endanger his client. He... He had no choice but to clean it up!

Shoe, who followed de Killer down the hall (staying close behind and batting at his coattails as he went in an attempt to be adorable) purred loudly as she saw the assassin pull the assorted cleaning supplies from the manor's closest broom closet. It only confirmed de Killer's belief that she was an even crueler, more sadistic and controlling creature than her owner could ever hope to be.

This was going to cost Engarde extra, of that de Killer was sure, but luckily he was quite skilled at removing stubborn stains from carpet...

* * *

AN: Ah, cats... I love them, really, but I absolutely loathe cleaning up after them. That's what I was doing yesterday, by the way. My dear, gigantic cat decided to get into the trash, eat some candy wrappers, and go on a puking spree. By the time I finished cleaning it all up, he was chewing on a another wrapper. Do you have any idea how hard it is to pull cellophane out of a cat's mouth when they want to swallow it?

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Agh! I wrote more. When will I learn?

AN: This one is set some time before case four of JFA and again, I feel sorry for our protagonist Engarde. Of course... It feels like he deserves this a lot more than de Killer did.

* * *

Matt was in the middle of popping a video tape into his VCR when he heard it. The unmistakable, visceral noise that makes the hearts of cat-owners freeze in terror and revulsion. Hurnk... Hurnk...! It was coming from behind the couch.

It was too late, he knew that. Even if he leapt over the back of the couch and scooped up his kitten, the damage would still be done. He knew it, but he still had to try!

Vaulting over the VHS-covered coffee table, Matt grabbed an old TV Book and raced around the arm of the couch; hoping against hope that he might miraculously make it in time to intercept the hideous mess he knew Shoe was heaving up onto the plush carpet. Alas, it was not to be. As Matt rounded the couch he saw Shoe's tail disappearing around the other arm of the couch and found a small pile of yuck, about as big as a golf ball, nestled happily in the fibers of the rug. For half a second he was thankful that, though he may not have caught her in the act, Shoe didn't do her worst. One pile wasn't too bad to clean up. Then he saw the others.

Lurking in the darker shadows cast by the back of the couch were many more, a small army of piles of puke. Shoe, he realized, was a sprinkler.

Matt tossed his TV Book onto the couch with a sigh as he surveyed the damages. There were eight piles that he could count. Each ranging in size from quarter-sized dollops to shallow puddles as big as his foot. One of Shoe's "presents," he noticed, was skillfully placed in a blind spot at the corner of the couch where the arm overhung just slightly further than normal. Had Matt stepped a few inches closer to the couch in his mad dash to catch Shoe, he would have put his foot right down on it. If he didn't know better, Matt would have thought his sweet little kitty set him up. Of course, he knew better and regardless of whether she had been trying to trap him or not, the stuff needed someone to clean it up.

Shoe chose that moment to leap up on the arm of the couch closest to Matt and eye him with a look that unmistakably said "Too bad the maids all went home for the night, isn't it?" Matt glared at her as if he was going to give the kitten a stern talking-to and maybe bop her with a pillow (not too hard, just enough to get the point across that puking on his things was wrong), but his resolve melted in the face of her overpowering cuteness and he decided to go with an exasperated sigh instead. He could never stay mad at her. Matt was a sucker for cats; and he knew Shoe used that against him.

"Come on Shoe, why can't you ever give me a break?" He reached over and scratched behind Shoe's ears, a little surprised to find she was already purring. "TV stars aren't supposed to be cleaning up cat puke."

-- -- -- -- --

What he expected of her, Shoe didn't know, but she dutifully kept staring up at him as cutely as possible, watching as Matt ran over his options in his head. This was the part she loved, the masterstroke, the most satisfying moment of her art. Soon her "master" would realize that while he could leave the mess for the maids to clean up in the morning, if he waited that long it would smell awful and, by then, permeate the entire house. And he couldn't have that, could he? There was only one path for him to take, one acceptable option in this situation and he'd accept it in five, four, three, two...

Matt's shoulders slumped and the hand that was scratching Shoe's head went to his own forehead as if trying to soothe a headache. Shoe grinned. Bingo! Humans were so very predictable.

She was purring loudly as Matt heaved one last pain-filled sigh and left the room. Shoe could hear him muttering under his breath as he hurried down the main hall to grab cleaning supplies from the broom closet there. Fantastic!

Those silly humans. If they didn't want her to throw up on the carpet, then why did they make it so fun?

* * *

AN: Yep, it happened again. Only this time it was the dog and cat tag-teaming me. They gave me a few heaping helpings of "inspiration" for this chapter earlier this morning. Inspiration full of bits of kibble. Thankfully, most of it was on the easy-to-clean linoleum floor in the kitchen.

Also... Yes, Shoe is a cruel, cruel kitty. I think it makes sense since pets and owners are often very similar, no? And if you don't buy that, Shoe gave de Killer away and got Engarde's mansion raided with a single well-placed meow. (Besides, I can't be the only one who thinks that Matt getting a taste of his own medicine from his cat is wonderful...)

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End file.
